


A Free Man In Paris

by Rii



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:25:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1847764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rii/pseuds/Rii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Raven came to Margali, after the Trask Incident, was barely different than all of her other visits, except for one fact: she asked about the boy first, and guidance second.  Minor spoilers for DOFP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Free Man In Paris

When it came to fortune-telling, Margali had two methods.

The first method was the traditional one: cold-reading. And it worked well enough for the casual crowd, the teenagers and the giggling couples, clutching cotton candy and cheap little prizes from the shooting gallery. She'd get out the tarot cards and tell them what they wanted to hear, or read luck or disaster in her palms, again, just to their liking. It was what put food on the table, aside from her cut of the ticket sales from the Big Tent. Safe, bland, and almost entirely false, all of it.

Though there were instances where she saw certain things arise, in her once-overs; the little details that pulled at her heart. So, she would pull at the threads of reality in response, to untangle them before they could get tangled. The cards in her deck would shuffle and turn up in such a way to encourage a certain young woman that her romance was not to be, and that she was best off in a new job, a new town; as it stood, there were bruises in the path before her, but she left with bravery growing at the corners of her lips when she left Margali's tent. There was another young man whose palm she read, and she advised him to see a doctor on account of the deeply-crooked health line she saw upon it. Of course, there was no such line - palmistry relied even more on cold reading than tarot cards, since there wasn't any sort of image to twist or interpret. But she could feel the cancer choking up his path like fat ivy, and his shaking thankfulness as he left told her everything she needed to know.

Those were just the tiny instances; drops of power from the ocean that ebbed and flowed within her. Done out of the kindness of her heart, to reward the ones who had come on a whim, but had true concerns and true beliefs at their core.

The _truly_ true believers were another story. The ones that knew her as more than just a circus fortune-teller, shrouding herself as the rest of them did in kitsch and clowning for their own privacy and safety.

An audience would never question a woman with limbs that bent like rubber, after all, or a man that could touch and handle fire without burning. It was a circus. All part of the show. Nobody - at least, nobody _normal -_ would ever think that these people were mutants, and nobody ever had.

Sebastian Shaw was the one that came first, and came most often. And she knew what he was there for, and what he had to offer, long before he could even ask for the reading. Fate practically dripped from his hands, at her table. He offered money, and she offered counsel, and guidance, in return. Where he might find allies, if he were so inclined, since the paths between him and them were brightest.

Margali suspected that Shaw was the one that sent Raven, when she came, or at least her knowledge of him did. Shaw's path had ended and faded into the dark, by then, but her connection to him remained, thin and strong as spider-silk. Well, that and the fact that she called Margali "Red Queen," when they first met; something only Shaw called her, to Margali's private distaste. He considered her part of some chess-themed inner circle that she could not care less about.

Raven always came to Margali as a young, honey-blond creature, wearing the same white dress, the same wary expression, as if she were constantly tempted to look over her shoulder at something only she could hear. The visits were hardly ever predictable; months would go by between her appearances, but she always managed to find where the circus had settled in some way or another.

Though Margali wished the girl would just come to her directly, she always dallied about, watching the show or simply wandering; perhaps to make herself seem less conspicuous, Margali imagined, though Raven hardly needed to do so. After that, she would make her way into Margali's tent, letting the flap block out the light behind her, and she would ask for guidance.

Though that, too, seemed like just a means of easing in, of blending in, because she _always_ asked about the boy afterward. It didn't matter if she was in genuine need of Margali's advice, asking where it would be safe to hide, where she could find others like her. At the end of the day, it always came back to the boy.

The day she came, after the Trask Incident, was barely different.

Of course, Margali had seen it. Everyone in the circus had, crowded around the rabbit-eared television that was in the ringmaster's caravan. They had heard the offer from the man named Magneto, and arguments had blossomed in the aftermath, about whether this man offered true freedom, or if they were better off in their home, where they were accepted, hiding in plain sight, but safe.

That, Margali hadn't taken part in. She retreated to her own caravan and held her two sons and her daughter close, and waited for Raven to come, just as she had come after Kennedy, after King, after Stonewall, all for the boy.

Raven came into Margali's tent with careful abandon, about a week after the broadcast; this time she wore a white, wide-brimmed hat with her usual dress, and elbow-high gloves. It became quickly apparent why she'd added these to her wardrobe: her eyes flashed yellow as the light hit them, visibly failing to maintain any semblance of her usual, limpid blue.

"Come with me, we are going to my home for this," Margali said, holding out her hand as she stepped out from behind the table, and Raven took it.

Margali got a kettle going on the stove, shortly after, sitting Raven down on the orange-plaid couch of her caravan's excuse of a living room. Raven kept her posture tight, sitting there, and one of her legs jittered.

"I don't need to ask if you're okay, because you obviously aren't," Margali began, joining her there. Raven didn't reply, so she continued. "Do you need somewhere to stay?"

"No. No, I'm not here for that." Raven's body tensed, and she held her arms as if she were cold.

The path around her wavered and shimmered like a mirage, when Margali concentrated on it, testing the waters around her, and it unnerved her more than she expected. Her fate had literally been torn in two, and was reknitting itself to an ineffective degree.

Still, Margali kept her voice calm as she spoke on. "Do you need my guidance?"

"I need - I need to see Kurt." Raven's voice sounded as if she were interrupting something, hurried and impulsive.

Yes, the day Raven came, after the Trask Incident, was barely different, except for the fact that she asked about the boy first, over all other things.

Margali closed her eyes, and nodded. "I understand. I'll go find him." She went to the window and opened it, and stuck her head out. "Amanda! Amanda, where are you?"

A voice, thin and light, like copper, called back from near the Big Tent. "Over here, Mama!"

"Can you come here, please? And go find your little brother, while you're at it! I need to talk to him too."

"Ka-ay!"

The kettle was beginning to sing when there was an odd chuffing noise from the dark hallway beyond the kitchen, and a tan little girl wearing a green headband skipped out. "What is it, Mama?"

Margali took the kettle off the stove and put one hand on her hip. "Amanda, what have I told you and Kurt about jumping around like that?"

"We're not having a show tonight, Mama, it's not like anyone's around to…" And there the little girl noticed Raven on the couch, her hat covering her face, hands now held still between her knees. "Uh. Oops."

"It's all right, Amanda, she's one of us," Margali said, with only a coating of kindness, "but you have to be careful. And that goes for you too, Kurt!"

"M'sorry, Mama…" A small boy, about eight years old, emerged from the shadows quite suddenly after, as if he were made of the stuff and was applying human form on top of it. A thin, flexible tail curled around one of his ankles, rather like a shamed dog, and his birdlike feet were bare.

Raven lowered her head further.

Margali said, "It's all right, my dear, I just don't want you to get in trouble." She began pouring hot water into a pair of mugs, afterward, with brown and orange flowers painted on them.

"So that lady's one of us?" Amanda continued, tilting her head to try and get a look under Raven's hat; a tumble of sandy braid-kinked hair fell over her shoulder. "She work for a circus too?"

"Amanda, you mustn't pry," Margali replied, setting teabags to steep in the mugs.

"Sorry..."

"Um, so… what did you wanna talk to us 'bout, Mama?" The boy held his hands in each other, and preemptive nervousness glossed his face.

"You had a bit of a tumble during practice today," Margali replied, quite naturally. "A mother worries."

"Yeah, 'cos dumb Kurt didn't _catch_ me," Amanda said.

"I couldn't-a caught you unless I jumped an' Mama said I can't _do_ that during a show!" the boy protested. "An' b'sides, you had the net…"

"Yeah, but I still fell!"

"Children, keep your voices down," Margali said, though she smirked and chuckled a little. "It seems you are far less injured than I thought."

"Yeah, I guess…" Amanda said.

"Margali, a - a word, please…" Raven was beginning to shiver, where she sat.

"Of course." Margali took the two mugs in hand, and began for the couch. "Kurt, Amanda, you can go back outside now - but no more jumping, you understand?"

Amanda shrugged and opened the door to the caravan, but the boy stayed behind, toes tangled in the shag carpet of the living space. "Is she gonna be okay, Mama?" he said.

"What, Amanda? Of course she will be, little one," Margali said. "She was barely hurt."

"No, not her. Um, _that_ lady." He pointed at her for a moment, before clasping his hands together again. "She sick?"

"Just in need of a hot drink. Now, run along." The green plastic beads on Margali's brown arm rattled like marbles as she waved him off, and with no lack of hesitance, the boy left the caravan.

Raven held the mug of tea, not saying anything, for a good long while after. Margali sat beside her, waiting for the air to thin out.

"I still haven't told him who you are, don't worry," Margali finally said. "He has no way of knowing."

Raven inhaled, and her breath shuddered.

"Are you worried for him?" Margali continued. "Given what was on the television, and all the news-"

"His father is dead." Raven's shoulders were hunched, and her voice constricted with the effort of not-crying. "Him, all my brothers and sisters… Trask did it. And all I have left is Erik, and he…"

Raven finally looked at Margali, there, the brim of her hat folding where it touched her back. Her eyes were so yellow they almost seemed to glow, and feathery blue scales were encroaching upon the outlines of her face, her neck.

"They all - know what I look like now. There are pictures, there's film - and he can't change how he looks like I can, Margali! And all I can think about is - is someone, _someone_ seeing him and - and making the connection, and, and…!"

Margali put her hand on Raven's shoulder and began to gently stroke her skin.

"I left him here with you because - because he'd be safe, I can't risk him being in danger because of what I have to do! I'm doing this so he can have a world where he _doesn't_ have to hide! And if something were to happen to him before that…!"

She was beginning to hyperventilate, and Margali gently said, "Shh, shh, it's all right, here; it's safe, here. Nothing is going to happen to you _or_ to Kurt."

"But, he… he can't hide - no, not hide," she corrected herself, abruptly, "he can't _protect_ himself, and I can't protect him, I can't do _anything_ for him..."

"You are doing the best you _can_ for him, Raven, dear," Margali said. "You are already putting his needs before your own, and you have me, and you have my power behind you. No harm will come to him, I swear to you."

A line of tears began to roll down Raven's cheek, which was now completely blue, and she covered her eyes with her gloved hands.

"Until that day when the world becomes a place where he can walk in the sunlight without fear," Margali continued, "then he will be here, where nobody will ever question him or his gifts."

Margali let the girl have a good long cry, after that, assuring her with soft, soothing words that she was so very strong, to shoulder such a burden for so many years; to challenge the world, alone, and at such a young age; to leave behind a son, to deny herself a relationship with him, for his own safety, especially with the boy embodying everything she was fighting for - a child that would never pass as "normal."

Margali's mind, however, was elsewhere. Its fingers combed and smoothed over the frayed path she saw around Raven, one line splintering into thousands, as if shattered by a gunshot. They were fading, yes, into impossible futures, but poison still ran through them and into Raven's body. One line ran clearer than the others, however, gleaming into the future like molten silver.

Strangest of all, Margali felt it upon her own path as well, as solid and present as if it were a snake wrapped around her arm, cool and certain.

That path, surely, would do much more for her than words.

Once Raven had composed herself some, her skin smoothing itself over with pink and white, Margali took her hands and held them firmly, looking her into her bluing eyes.

"Raven, I know you did not ask for advice, but allow me this, please."

Raven swallowed, her eyebrows lowering with curiosity.

"Come by here tomorrow, before our show that night. There will be a girl there, in a gray dress; blind, but one of us. I feel like she is someone you need to meet."

"And there's no way for you to explain how you know this, huh," Raven said, a smirk curling into her lips, if only slightly.

"I was blessed with the knowledge of the paths and the winding way; there is no further explanation," Margali said. "All I know is that she is the one that will carry you on to better places."

"I don't come here for explanations," Raven replied. Her eyes lowered, and she adjusted her hat. "Margali… thank you for this. I needed this."

"I know you did," Margali replied.

She told the girl that she was welcome back at any time, even though it was unnecessary. But it was as fine a farewell as she could think of, before Raven folded herself into the night.

Raven did return, the next day, as Margali suggested. She was feeling much better, much calmer, and she wandered the circus grounds as aimlessly as she could manage, all the while searching for a girl in gray.

It wasn't the first time she was searching for someone on Margali's advice; they were always vague, more place than person, but they'd led her to Dallas, to Saigon, and so many places in between where she was able to do good.

It wasn't so much precognition, Margali's gift, but something more related to probability - at least, that was how Raven understood it. Seeing which paths could lead people to ruin or to fortune, and directing them according to her whims.

The idea of precognition as a mutation was bold and sharp in her mind, all the same, given everything that had happened in the past few weeks. Was the future really so certain and solid that someone - hypothetically - could tap into it and read it like a book? Raven curled her lip at the thought. The future was a mystery, time-displaced wolfmen or no. It was up to _her_ actions to make the future a better one.

At least, the best one she could make for her son.

" _I was a free man in Paris, I felt unfettered and alive, there was nobody calling me up for favors, and no one's future to decide…"_

Someone was singing nearby, pulling Raven out of her thoughts; the tune was unfamiliar, but there was a lilt to the melody that felt like something she'd heard before on the radio.

Then, Raven felt a small tap at her ankle - a white cane, red-tipped, followed by the warm body of a girl pressing against her as she tripped.

"Hey! Watch where you're-" Raven began, before she turned around and saw that it was exactly whom she was looking for.

She wore a plain gray dress and matching knee-high socks, a gray kerchief tied around her brown hair; she wore round, dark glasses with gold rims, and a slight smile.

"No, I'm sure you didn't mean to - but I think _I_ rather did," the girl replied, and her smile grew.

Raven's face wrinkled with confusion. "You… _meant_ to bump into me?"

"Something like that." The girl in gray smiled further and held her cane to her chest. "I'm sorry, I should probably introduce myself before we go any further. Might be awkward for you if we continue on like this without names. I'm Irene. Irene Adler." She held out her hand.

Raven took it with an awkwardness she wasn't sure she was supposed to feel. "Raven."

"So that's what you're going by? All right," Irene replied.

"You… expected something else?" Raven said, letting go of her hand.

"Something like that," Irene said, and laughed at seemingly nothing. "Wow, this is embarrassing, I just feel all star-struck all of a sudden."

"Star-struck?" Raven's legs felt tight, coiled to run.

"You've just been _fascinating_ to watch; you just kept coming up in my visions, and never the same future twice." Irene scratched her cheek, just below her glasses. "It's only recently cleared up and, well, now I just _have_ to meet you, I suppose."

The tightness in her legs disappeared. "...you have visions?"

"I suppose you could call 'em that. A blind seer, just like in the myths. Wish I could be more original." Irene laughed again. "But, yeah, I can see what's most likely to happen. Used to think it was what _will_ happen until _you_ started showing up. Which brings me here."

"So, you're…?"

"Just like you," Irene said. "A gifted… youngster, I guess."

In the pause, Raven's expression soured.

Somehow, Irene knew. "Sorry. Didn't mean to bring him up."

"It's… all right," Raven replied. "I'm just… well, more than a little shocked."

"I can't exactly blame you," Irene said. "And I kinda feel the same. It's not every day that you meet someone that completely changes the way you look at things."

The tension in her body, from fear, from distrust, was migrating into Raven's heart and stomach, making them kick and flutter in ways they hadn't in years.

"Well, I'm… flattered, I suppose?" Raven managed.

"If you want to be," Irene replied. "I _did_ come all this way just to find you, at this exact place, at this exact time, but I don't see myself having much of a choice in the matter, all things considered. People like us tend to find each other, visions or not."

"People like us, is it?" Raven said. She found herself smiling.

"Well, there is word going around that you and a certain Mister Lehnsherr are looking for like-minded individuals, these days," Irene said. "I think I'd like to have a conversation with you about it, at least."

"Sure, I… think that can be arranged," Raven replied. "Just, um…"

"Somewhere less public?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't you accompany me to the bus stop? I can't exactly drive," Irene said. "There's a diner a few miles from here that's having a slow night, and we won't be bothered. Besides, I'd like to buy you a cup of coffee, if that's all right with you." She lowered her glasses, and though her eyes were thick with cataracts and unfocused, she still made the motion of a wink.

Even Azazel hadn't made her feel this way so quickly. And despite herself, Raven laughed. "You sure are _subtle_. Sure, we can get a coffee. Just tell me where to go."

"I fully intend to," Irene replied, and offered Raven her arm. "Shall we?"

Even though she hadn't properly known the girl for all of two minutes, taking Irene's arm in hers felt as natural and right as finding and taking a well-walked path in the middle of an otherwise feral woods.

Well, Margali's advice hadn't ever steered her wrong, but this felt… different. Smoother, softer, in a way she couldn't quite put into words.

As they walked to the bus stop, Irene began to softly sing again. _"...there was nobody calling me up for favors, and no one's future to decide…"_

Raven simply had to ask. "That song… where is it from?"

"Hm? Oh, just a little something I picked up somewhere."

"At a record shop?"

Irene laughed. "Not quite. Give it a year or so - it'll be _all_ over the radio."

**Author's Note:**

> \- The two circus performers mentioned specifically as mutants - the rubber woman and the fire-handler - are Gummi and Feuer from Der Jahrmarkt, Margali's circus.  
> \- Red Queen is one of Margali's aliases in the comics, when she is affiliated with the Hellfire Club, Shaw's little group.  
> \- Kurt is eight years old here because Alan Cumming, who played him in X2, was born in 1965, and would have been 8 in 1973. Felt fair to give them the same birth year.  
> \- Margali is not a witch in this universe but a mutant with luck-related abilities, and the privilege of being able to view the best or worst paths for people if she concentrates. Her daughter Amanda will develop similar abilities.  
> \- The song Irene is singing is "Free Man in Paris" by Joni Mitchell, from her album "Court and Spark." The album was released in 1974, so she's experiencing it a little early. The song is also the title of this fic because I felt its lyrical content suited Raven very well, post-Trask Incident, especially in a hypothetical future with Irene. Nobody calling her up for favors, nobody's future to decide...


End file.
